


Run for the Chance to Live as You Will

by 00qverlord, greendayfan101



Series: Intelligence Isn't Everything, Maybe Love Plays a Part [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Harry, Bucky Barnes-centric, Bucky is Harry's dad, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Ceiling Vent Clint Barton, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Flash Mobs, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Graphic descriptions of violence, Harry Potter Canon Compliant, Harry Potter was Adopted by Other(s), Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), Harry-centric, I told you, Kinda, Light Harry, Limb removal, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Uncle Steve Rogers, Sassy Harry, The Avengers (2012) Compliant, except for the cursed child, strong russian implications, wow never thought I'd tag that, you got yourself into this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-19 07:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9427766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/00qverlord/pseuds/00qverlord, https://archiveofourown.org/users/greendayfan101/pseuds/greendayfan101
Summary: Bucky looked at the boy, Harry James Potter. He knew by all means he should return the baby back to the front steps of that house, but the house was at least a day's walk as Bucky had walked most of the night with the baby, stopping in at the wee hours of the morning. He wouldn't be surprised if the baby were to wake up soon.What the fuck was he thinking? He was a grown-ass man who was on the run from an evil organization promoting world domination, and he had taken on a fucking child. He didn't have any baby supplies, little money, and no experience on how to take care of a child. He supposed he would figure it out when the baby woke up.





	1. Guns For Hands

**Author's Note:**

> So, Greendayfan101 and I worked hard on this. Hard, very hard. Well I say hard it started as plot bunny and it was all we talked about for 2 weeks. Super fun to write.  
> I own nothing, rights belong to Marvel Comics and the lovely Mrs. J.K Rowling.  
> Enjoy!

 

The wind was nipping at the tips of Bucky Barnes' ears, and whipping his hair in his face under the dark green baseball cap. The streets of Little Whinging, Surrey, were much more dirty than the ones back in Moscow. A plastic bag rolled across Bucky's path like a grey tumbleweed. The wind blew again, harder than the last, and he pushed his hands deeper into his field mechanic jacket. The inside of his legs were frozen, and there were goosebumps on the back of his neck. The street was only a blur of his legs and the sidewalk, bathed in the pale grey moonlight. He walked faster, coming to what looked like the edge of the block. Bucky had no particular destination in mind, but at this point the Saharan Desert would have been a better option than the houses that went on and on, except for the outcropping of trees on his left side. He looked up to see how far he was from the curb, when he saw something that made him pause mid-step. There were people in some very strange clothing. A man and a woman, in what looked like super long, uncomfortable bath robes were holding a basket that was covered in blankets. They were walking perpendicular to him across the street so Bucky was behind them, but the thing that intrigued him the most was the fact that they appeared out of nowhere. Bucky analyzed his situation. There was only two of them, and they were both older. His odds were looking good for him, so he followed them, staying in the bushes and out of sight. There was no indication that they knew he was there, and he made it to the bushes of number 4 Privet Drive before the couple stopped and placed the basket on the front doorstep. Bucky buried himself in the bushed that were in good condition, but were in no way dethroned, so his flesh arm took the brunt of the impact. It wasn't enough to create holes in his jacket, but he could feel the individual spikes on each of the rose stems poking his arm like a needle. The elderly couple who left the basket turned and started to walk away, back the direction they came, so Bucky dropped flat to the ground, and pressed himself against the bushes and the cold ground, where a rock was pressing directly into his sternum. He didn't dare move. The old man stopped and Bucky held his breath. He was pretty confident the old man couldn't see him. It was dark, and Bucky was wearing clothes that blended in ground. He was fairly certain the man couldn't see him. But the man only hesitated for a second, and he was on his way again. And he was alone in the street again. The old man and woman were gone, just as they had appeared from thin air. Bucky's knees creaked as he pushed himself off the ground as slow as possible. His joints sore from days of walking, and he could swore his knee actually popped. He peered around the bushes, but there were no sign of either of them. He pushed the rest of himself up, the wind biting his cheekbones like a vicious dog. He walked purposefully over to the backset, and almost reeled back when he realized what was inside.  
It was a baby. A real live tiny child. Bucky considered running. He seriously considered turning his back and leaving the child where he was. He had no reason nor means to take care of a child. But there was a pity that started as a seedling in his heart. The sleeping child visibly burrowed more into his ice white blanket, and that was the exact moment Bucky's resolve broke. He couldn't leave the child out in the cold. Tomorrow was Sunday, so who knows when the people at the house would be up. The child could get frostbite, Bucky reasoned, so he picked up the basket, looked around to make sure no one was there, and made his way back down Privet Drive. 

\-----

Surprisingly, Bucky didn't have a hard time getting into a motel with a moses-baby. He just tucked the blanket over the baby's head, which wasn't an issue because it was still sleeping, and it just looked like he was a really shady guy walking around with a basket of cookies.   
Bucky flinched for the baby's sake when their room smelled like someone had smoked a cigarette that was now a couple days old. The key card didn't work at first, but once he switched the baby to his metal arm and swiped the key card with his regular arm, it clicked open and Bucky let out a long suffering sigh. There were only a few disadvantages to having an enhanced prosthetic arm. The room was not spacious by any means, holding a small bathroom, one bed, a desk, lamp, chair and clock. The room was a dull tan colour that gave Bucky the same feeling as walking into a shrink's office. He placed the basket on the bed and sat down next to it, pulling off the blanket to reveal the little child dressed in a light grey elephant onesie, soft as a feather, and a little hood with elephant ears on it. there was a note, an off-white creamy colour with the name Petunia written on it in neat cursive tucked behind the child's back. He looked at the child and wondered if it's name was Petunia. He hoped not. He slid out the letter from behind the child, and opened it. It smelled vaguely of lemons, which of  all scents to put on a letter was kind of strange. He was fairly sure the letter was not poisoned, as it was technically not meant for him, and it was nesting beside what appeared to be a normal and healthy baby.   
  
_Dear Petunia Dursley,  
_

_We regret to inform you that your sister Lily Potter (Ne_ é _Evans) has been killed after being tracked down and killed by Lord Voldemort, a maniacal killer who is currently presumed dead._  
We ask that you take care of her son Harry James Potter, as your blood connection to  him will make it safer for him in the oncoming years. He's a year old at this point, he was born on July 31st. As you know, your sister was a witch, so it is possible that you will see signs of magic use. Do not be concerned as this is normal, but if you have any questions, feel free to contact the ministry and get in touch with me. I recommend an owl.  
  
_With regrets and best wishes,  
Albus Dumbledore. _

Bucky looked at the boy, Harry James Potter. He knew by all means he should return the baby back to the front steps of that house, but the house was at least a day's walk as Bucky had walked most of the night with the baby, stopping in at the wee hours of the morning. He wouldn't be surprised if the baby were to wake up soon.  
What the fuck was he thinking? He was a grown-ass man who was on the run from an evil organization promoting world domination, and he had taken on a fucking child. He didn't have any baby supplies, little money, and no experience on how to take care of a child. He supposed he would figure it out when the baby woke up. 

It was 8 in the morning, and Harry was gurgling happily in his basket as Bucky wandered around the baby isle of the grocery store. Harry stared up at Bucky with his huge jade eyes, and Bucky glanced down at him and then back up at the rows upon rows of baby formula. He picked up a bottle from the stack hanging off the shelf, then picked up at least 10 packs of whatever the cheapest brand was. He added it to the other things in his cart, which was also balancing Harry in the baby portion. Bucky raised his eyebrow at the small boy, who babbled happily back at him.   
"почему я решил забрать тебя. ( _Why did I decide to take you.)_ " Harry reached for Bucky, who let him play with one of his metal fingers. Harry touched it and flinched back at the coldness, but it wasn't enough to deter him as he then happily moved the finger all around.  
Soon enough, Bucky had gotten through the checkout line with only mild sympathetic glances from the other mothers in line. He hadn't spent as much money as he thought he would, which meant he and his small charge got to eat more. They hadn't gone back to the motel, Bucky brought his black tactical backpack with him to the grocery store so they could head out first thing in the morning. He took the individual baby things out of the packages which were much to bulky to carry considering he didn't have a car, and stuffed them in the remaining space in his backpack. The rest which didn't fit, he tucked in the basket by Harry's feet, and then lay the blanket over Harry and the items.  
He turned the card in at the front desk, and lady nodded and wished him a good day, and the two were off. 

\----

Bucky had never heard of Severomorsk, so he figured that was a good thing. It was't hard to bribe the landowner of a small apartment building into letting him have a room on the 4th floor. The room wasn't in good condition, but it was cheap. it smelled of old gym socks and stale peanuts, but nothing concerning like rotten food or a gas smell. A can of air spray should do the trick. The couch was an ugly tan colour and moth eaten, but it wasn't falling apart. The kitchen was separated by a half wall to the right of the sitting room. It had a counter to the right and a small table and two chairs to the left. He opened the cupboards to find nothing but dust, which flew up in a flurry of stale air that made Bucky cough and fan his face, trying to clear away the particles. He placed Harry in the basket down on the table, who looked up wondrously at the empty kitchen. He had been fairly quiet the entire journey, Bucky wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. He hoped Harry was just a quiet baby and not a sick baby, but there didn't look to be anything wrong with him. He wasn't overly warm or cold when Bucky placed a hand on Harry's forehead, and there didn't seem to be any physical ailments. 

There was only a tiny chance of Hydra finding him and Harry here. It was a better place than he'd stayed in before, where'd they'd found him in a month. But that was back in England, and Harry was about a year and 6 months, when they finished their journey for now in Severomorsk. Bucky wanted to stay here without Hydra butting into his business. He wanted to give Harry all that he could from his life, he wanted to give Harry a better life than Bucky had gotten. With Hydra on their tale, however, that would prove to be difficult. 

\----

Minerva McGonagall wasn't sure whether she was upset or angry at Albus Dumbledore. She settled on frustrated. He had checked in with Harry through the wards at Privet drive 6 months after Harry was supposed to be settled well. He couldn't see him through the ward that let him view the house. He couldn't see any sign of Harry moving outside of the house, so he send Minerva to go to the house and check on him. She hustled down the sidewalk towards 4 Privet drive, which looked as bland and boring as the rest of the neighbourhood. She knocked on the door, which a rather large man answered.   
"Can I help you, miss?"  
"Yes, actually, you can. Are you Vernon Dursley?" Minerva inquired.  
The man stood a little straighter, as if she was there on a business deal, "I am."  
"Good. I'm here on a business inquiry about a mister Potter?" She didn't bother beating around the bush. She had things to do back at the school.   
"There's no one here who goes by that name, missus."  
Minerva gave a pleasant grin, but inside she was enraged, "Alright, I must have the wrong house then." She walked back up the sidewalk, and she heard the door close behind her.  
Albus had some explaining to do. 

When she got back to the castle, the first person she ran into was Severus Snape, which was exactly who she wanted to talk to. She didn't even say hello, she went for the jugular.  
"The Potter child is missing."  
Snape was considering just walking past the deputy headmistress, but when she said that he stopped dead in his tracks.   
His tone was icy cold "what did you just say?"  
"Albus, he put the child where he was supposed to go. I was there with him. That was 6 months ago. I came back from checking on him not 10 minutes ago, apparently there was no one who lived there who went by the name of Harry Potter."   
Snape sighed, "absolutely wonderful." This would almost definitely be another screw-up that the old man claimed he could fix in no time. Severus highly doubted it, but there wasn't much he could do. The three of them had to find the Potter boy  and make sure he was placed back where he would be safe. 


	2. Semi-Automatic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is coming soon  
> be prepared

"Come on Harry, punch me, don't go easy."  
Harry gave the strongest punch he could manage, and hit Bucky square in the shoulder. It jolted Bucky back, but while Harry was shaking his fist, he was grinning.   
"Sorry papa."  
Bucky laughed and rubbed the kid's head, "don't be sorry, цыпленок, ( _chick)_ I told you to punch me as hard as you could, and you did. You managed to push me back, so good on you."  
Harry smiled and leaned into his dad as he took off the boxing wrap he had put on to make sure his hand wouldn't get severely injured or bloody. He knew how to fight someone without hurting your hand, but he liked to use the bandage since they had it available.   
"Guess that's a wrap-up for today, eh kid?"  
"I guess so."  
"How d'you feel about going into town today? I need to do a supply run, figured you'd like to come visit Artjom instead of waiting back at the apartment." Bucky looked at Harry, who had run ahead through the forest.   
Harry stopped in his tracks and stared at his dad, "you'd let me do that?"   
Bucky laughed, "yeah, no one would mess with the world's deadliest nine year old."  
Harry waited up to walk with his dad until the exit to the forest. The warm spring breeze blew through Bucky's long hair, bringing the sweet smell of wildflowers and grass. The edge of town came into view, and so did their apartment.    
The corner Store that Artjom Kosovo worked at was a location of a chain called Auchan. Harry had wandered in one day when Bucky was out, and he had kind of (absolutely) made friends with the only employee on shift, Artjom. Bucky had eventually come to see Artjom as his acquaintance after Harry continued to go back. Harry obviously trusted Artjom, so Bucky wouldn't object to Harry hanging out with him, even if he was 17. Trust was a hard virtue to come by in the life they lived. Anyone they came across who earned the loyalty of either one of them, earned the protection for life from both of them. When they loved, they loved fiercely. 

Artjom was, in fact, on shift when the Barnes men walked in. Harry saw the blond boy and his eyes lit up, rushing over to Artjom and starting up a chatty conversation, making the woman Artjom was serving smile. They were talking about the new episode of some television show that Bucky didn't watch in fluent Russian. Bucky wandered around to the back to pick up a couple bags of chips to bring up to the counter. He pulled out his wallet and a couple of rubles and handed them over to Artjom, who opened the register with a soft ping. He put the rubles in the register and handed the chips back to Bucky. There weren't many things Harry was picky about, but chip flavours happened to be one of them. He preferred plain chips, they didn't taste weird. The show was some show called Nu, Pogodi. Bucky didn't follow it, but it was a cartoon and it kept Harry entertained, so he didn't have an issue with it. Bucky handed Harry the chips, which he popped open and the left the store, Harry waving goodbye to Artjom on the way out, and pushed his round glasses back up his nose. 

Their apartment was by no means the nicest house they had ever encountered, but it was home. They had fixed it up with what they had, Bucky worked small time jobs, nothing regular. Small things from Harry walking neighbourhood dogs to Bucky helping transport crates on and off trucks to supply stores. The walls weren't just remnants of scratched paint anymore, but an off-white, cream colour that was pleasant to the eye. It didn't smell of rotting corpses anymore, as Bucky had actually found and removed at least ten dead mice. The communal room lead to a tiny hallway which held a small closet, Bucky's room, the bathroom, and a room which was originally supposed to be intended as an office, spare room or rec room turned into Harry's room. All in all, it wasn't bad, and it was theirs. 

Harry's school was by no means the highest of high sanctums. It was a small brick building that housed about 500 kids, and the building itself had a few bricks falling apart here and there, but the teachers were good and Harry learned everything Bucky couldn't remember how to teach him. Bucky could teach him how to survive on his own, Harry was proficient in not only Russian and English, but Romanian and French. Bucky taught him how to look out for himself, how to tell if anyone was following him, and he taught Harry how to find other people. He taught Harry how to fight from fists and bo staff to a fully loaded AK-47. Bucky taught everything he knew to Harry, but in this case it had to be the school that taught him basic mathematics and visual arts.

\----

As Harry was long past his tenth birthday and the 5th grade school year started, Bucky became increasingly more restless as long as they stayed there. They had been in the same spot for 9 years, and it still surprised Bucky to no end that no one had caught up to them. No one at all, not S.H.I.E.L.D, not HYDRA, not the KGB. It's why he taught Harry everything. If someone was to come after them and they somehow ended up separated or Bucky was somehow incapacitated, he wanted Harry to be able to fend for himself. He never wanted to move around or uproot them too much, he wanted to give Harry some semblance or a normal childhood. He had friends' houses he went over to occasionally.  Harry knew never to bring them over. He knew, but not only did he know, he understood. He didn't know all the details, but Harry knew his dad had nightmares. Harry knew his dad called out for someone named Steve sometimes, and Harry knew his dad dreamt of falling. Sometimes he didn't call out. Those were the worst days, Harry knew because he kept his different arm close to his chest, he didn't use it like normal, and he wouldn't say a word to anyone except to tell Harry a good morning, and then an hour later wish him well off to school. By the afternoon it was better again.   
Sometimes Harry had nightmares too. Sometimes it was normal things, like falling off a really tall building, or getting chased by a monster, but sometimes it was cold, Harry was cold all over. He couldn't see much, he assumed he was bleary from sleep. But there was some semblance of a woman in front of him, and a man in black walked in to the room. The room very much resembled what would be a typical baby room, but the shadows loomed more than usual and seemed to curl in towards the man in black. The man had a terrifying aura about him, he was everything Bucky had taught him to avoid. Then there was a flash of bright green light that froze Harry where he was and was hot enough to melt him at the same time, and then there was darkness and Harry shot up from his bed, and crawled into Bucky's next to him. 

Sometimes there were good days, though. Some days were Bucky would make him pancakes on the weekend, and some days where they'd go see a kids movie in a theatre for a couple bucks, and some days where Bucky would tell the kid stories of Superheroes before bed, ones that could fly and shoot lasers from their eyes,  some that heal people with just one touch, and some that could turn into animals at will.   
Bucky would come with Harry on the dog walks sometimes when he had a break, and they talked about anything that Harry wanted to. It wasn't on a dog walk, however, that Harry wanted to know just exactly where his mom was, and why it was just him and his dad. Before, Bucky had very seriously considered telling Harry, but he had decided to wait until Harry knew something was up and decided to ask himself. It may make Harry more willing to respond well to the information as opposed to delivering an exposition dump on the poor boy.   
The question had come up abruptly; "Where's mummy?"  
It was over dinner, and Bucky had very nearly choked on his spoonful of chicken soup. "Uh... oh boy. Harry, your mom is with your real dad, um, they're-"  
"Dead?"  
Bucky accidentally inhaled a piece of carrot.  
He coughed, cleared his throat, and continued, "Yeah. They're um, they're dead."  
"So if my real parents aren't here then why do you have me?"  
Bucky didn't believe in the idea that sitting on a more comfortable seat like the couch could make this conversation any easier, so they remained where they sat on the hard, wooden chairs. "I found you on a doorstep, in Little Whinging, England. It wasn't my doorstep, but it was cold and no one would have found you for at least a day. It just sort of... Happened, I guess, but I don't regret it."  
Somehow, by a miracle only suitable for their tiny dysfunctional family, this was ok. This was probably a lot closer to normal than Bucky had experienced in a long time. Harry just nodded in acceptance and went back to eating his food, so Bucky did as well. When Harry stopped, so did Bucky on fear of choking on another carrot.   
"Who's Steve?"  
Bucky probably should have seen that one coming. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his chin, "Steve Rogers was my best friend for a very long time. We fought in the army together, but I fell off a train and he didn't. I'm not really sure what happened to him. But he was a good man, he really was. He'd be your uncle if he was still around, you know. He was a brave soldier, the bravest."  
"Instead of heroes tonight dad, can you tell me about Steve?"  
Bucky smiled and leaned over to ruffle his son's hair, which Harry had no objection to.   
"I guess so kiddo. You know I still love you like you're my own, right?"  
"Yeah, I know, I love you too dad. Still going to beat you in the getting-ready-for-bed race, you know."  
"You can try, kiddo, you can sure as hell try."  
"That's a bad word you know."  
"Yeah, I know."

\----

There was no lead on the Potter boy. At all. There were no records, no files, nothing of any kind to indicate who had taken the boy, or where he currently was. McGonagall was getting very angry with the man upstairs in his office behind the stone gargoyle. Neither he nor Severus had come up with any leads either. As concerning as it was, it was no reason not to keep a level head about the situation.  
The last place Potter had been seen was at the house in Surrey, but there had been no trace of anyone having taken the boy at all. McGonagall had done a discrete Prior Incantatem spell, but the last spells that were used were the wards put up by Dumbledore when they had first arrived. There had been no sign of an Obliviate spell or anything similar.  
They were fresh out of clues and luck, it seemed. 


	3. Chapter 3

  1. Take the Stage and Deliver



 

Harry's accidental magic had never been an issue. Sure it had cropped up every once and awhile, but the worst offence is when the toilet exploded when Harry got upset at something on the news. It had taken a while to get it fixed, but Bucky found the whole experience hilarious. Having the letter meant for Petunia Dursley helped the potentially catastrophic freak out Bucky probably would have had about it had the letter not explained. In the end, there wasn't much Bucky could do to help deal with it. When he was younger, it would startle Harry and the most Bucky could do was hold him and calm him down until it passed. 

The letter had arrived at his door, from a wildly weirded out mailman, who looked at the fancy wax seal like it had personally offended him. He handed the letter to Bucky over without a word, and Bucky took it with a quiet "Спасиб.  _ (Thanks.) _ " The letter looked like it was from ages ago. It resembled a history project like a written letter from centuries ago, dip it in tea and then let it dry so it has a yellow colour to it. The wax seal was a surprise, though. It had what looked like a family crest on it, but the wax made it difficult to make out. It was rubbery, and Bucky didn't appreciate the feel of it between his fingers.    
"Harry?"   
"Yeah pops?" The response came from the living room, where Harry was filling out the last questions of his math homework.    
"There's a letter here, and it has a wax seal?"   
"A wax seal?" Harry mumbled to himself as he finished the last question then got up from the floor, "who the heck still uses wax seals?"    
Bucky shrugged and broke the seal revealing a letter written on -was that parchment? He thought the wax seal was weird, but parchment was just ridiculous. Where had the sender even found parchment? "Harry it's addressed to you."   
"Me? Who would be sending me a letter?"   
Bucky tensed as he realized that the address was specified down to which bedroom Harry slept in. There was a very real concern that the letter could have been Hydra. It crossed Bucky's mind that the organization had found them and was trying to get to Bucky through Harry, but he didn't let it stop him. "Here" he said, handing the letter over to Harry who had arrived in the entryway and was looking at the letter clenched in Bucky's hand curiously.   
"Holy shit it does have my bedroom on it. That is so creepy, how do they even know that?"   
“Harry.”   
“Sorry.”

They sat down at the kitchen table where Bucky dropped the rest of the spam mail onto the counter, and sat down with Harry. He passed the letter over to Harry, who looked at it scrutinizingly. The outside of the letter was addressed to a Mr. H Potter, the left side bedroom, with his address following under. That was a problem in itself. Curiosity got the better of him, and he slid his finger and pulled the wax seal off. Both men held with bated breaths as Harry opened the letter.   
Harry's eyebrows furrowed as he scanned down the letter. He started from the top. It was addressed to a Mr. H Potter. Bucky frowned at it. "Harry, you want to go grab a paper and pen from the cupboard?"    
Harry came back with the pen, and the two of them started formulating a response. 

_ Dear Ms. McGonagall, _

_ We regret to inform you, we think you have the wrong person.  _ __   
_ There's no one by the name of Potter at this address, but there is an H Barnes? We also do not own an owl. We live in Russia. Owls would not survive the winter. _ _   
_ __ Thank you, and write again if you have concerns, 

_ H and J Barnes. _

_ \---- _

The next morning, the owl appeared at the living room windowsill, scaring the heck out of Bucky. It screeched, and caused the brunet to nearly drop his coffee. The owl was by no means anything anyone would pay attention to. A scrawny thing, brown with black markings. Bucky wasn't wrong when they said owls didn't survive the winter, but it wasn't wintertime currently. It also wasn't uncommon for owls to be seen around their apartment considering the forest behind it was densely populated with woodland creatures, but that did not mean that owls regularly nearly broke their faces trying to break into the Barnes' home.   
Bucky opened the window, and it hopped up and over the small rest for the window, and up onto Bucky's metal shoulder. It cooed fondly at him, but Bucky just glared at it petulantly. "Harry?"   
"What?" Harry was still in his room, but the reply hadn't come any less quick.    
"Do you know of any neighbourhood owls who like to nose dive into windows?"   
" _ What?"  _ There was a telltale thunk, and Harry scrambled out of his room like bat out of hell, and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the tiny owl perched on his father's shoulder, "holy balls."   
"Harry don't say that."   
"I know sorry but did you let that thing in the house?"   
"Like I said, it nosedived into our window." “   
"Alright fine but  _ why?  _ The letter maybe? It was asking for us to send an owl." Harry was getting more skeptical by the second.    
The two of them returned to the letter on the kitchen table. It was such a tiny thing, yet it seemed to weigh them both down more than it should. Harry grabbed and old ball of twine and some scissors from the kitchen drawer. He rolled up their response tightly, then wrapped the twine around both the note and the owl's leg. He was gentle so he wouldn't hurt the owl, but firm enough that the letter wouldn't fall off and get lost either.  The owl seemed pretty content on Bucky's shoulder, so instead of tossing it back out the window where it came from, they decided to use the front door. The owl nipped at Bucky's metal arm, swooped once over Harry's head, and then carried off into the sky.

Harry had quite the day at school telling his friends a tiny owl had flown into his living room window this morning, and Jacek, who knew Bucky, found it quite hilarious that the little animal had taken a liking to his friend's dad's prosthetic limb. The rest of the day held no other unusual circumstances for the two, they went on with their day as usual. 

When the sun was set and everyone was starting to settle down for the night, Harry asked his dad to stay for a bit. Harry had his covers pulled up to his chest, but he was propped up enough to look at Bucky, who sat on the edge of the bed.    
"What's up kiddo?"   
"Can you tell me stories about Steve again?"   
"Alright? What prompted this?" Bucky rested his back against the wall and let his shins rest against the edge of the bed frame on the opposite side.    
Harry just shrugged.   
Bucky let out a breath, "Let's see what we can cook up. Well, once the two of us were out at a bar, and typical Steve had wandered off without me noticing. Turns out he’d gotten in a fight trying to defend a lady from a mugger. You know Brooklyn,” Harry nodded, “anyway he ended up turning the lady's attacker on himself, the endearing disaster. Steve, ever the righteous man, took hit after hit after hit, and you know what he said as I came down the alley? He looked the man in the eye and said 'I can do this all day'. Boy was barely on his feet before I pulled the guy off him. If there's anything you should know about Steve, he may be a reckless soul always in search of justice, but he has the purest heart out of anyone I've ever known."   
"What about me?" Harry asked with a cheeky grin.   
"Harry, you can take down at least 3 people with your fists alone."   
"True."   
Bucky got up off the bed, and he ruffled his son's hair, "g'night kiddo."   
"'Night dad."   
The door closed with a soft click, and Bucky ran a hand over his face and through his hair. As much as he loved the two of them, Steve and Peggy, it was incredibly hard to talk about them, even decades later. He wished they were still there, but he knew Steve was buried in the ice and probably dead, and he knew Peggy was busy running S.H.I.E.L.D and had better things to do than deal with a traumatized and over emotional ex-assassin. Harry would have to suffice with just the stories, he supposed.    
He remembered when Steve had pulled him off the exam table at the Hydra base back in World War 2. It was a scary thought to think that it had taken him a second to recognize his own best friend. After the escape from HYDRA, it had taken years of their own for all his memories to come back properly. Not all of them did. Some of them were still returning, through nightmares.    
Bucky stripped his clothes and slid himself under his bed covers, reached over and clicked off the lamp. There was no sleep on it's way, though. He lay in the darkness, acutely aware of the cold metal arm that was resting against his side. He kept it covered most of the time, even though Harry, and even his friends had no problem with his dad's 'awesome cyborg arm', but for Bucky's own emotional safety he preferred not to even have it in his field of vision. He was getting better with it, and he knew it would be a part of him forever, but he had to work hard to accept that.    
After a long while, the cars outside and the small amount of light just enough to be aware of his surroundings, the quiet buzz of the air conditioner in the other room, Bucky finally felt himself relax enough to sleep, just for a little while. 

\----

Minerva McGonagall sat opposite to Albus Dumbledore, who studied the letter carefully. The letter addressed to Mr. Potter had been returned, along with the response.    
The Headmaster read over the response, "Well, yes, I can see how this would be an issue."   
This is it, Minerva swore to herself, this is the year she would retire for sure. 

"An issue, Albus? Hogwarts does not make mistakes. H Barnes could very well be who we're looking for."   
Albus looked up at her, "So the J Barnes would be his current guardian, I presume?"   
Minerva nodded. "Can we do anything about changing the name if he wishes?"   
Dumbledore sighed, "No, we can't. The letters have been sent out already, and with that the making of the attendance lists for every student. Plus, you know how Severus will be."   
Minerva frowned as his response, "unfortunately, I do know how he will be. I wish he came to respect James enough to avoid issues with his child, but it would seem this is not the case."   
"So it is, Minerva, so it is. It's late in Russia now, I'll wait until morning to go retrieve the boy and bring him back here, so we can set him up properly for his first year."   
Minerva nodded and moved to stand up, pushing back her chair and walking down the gargoyle steps without another word to Dumbledore. He made his actions perfectly clear, so she would not bring herself undue stress while trying to reason with the man. However, there was absolutely no way Minerva saw this ending well at all.


	4. Get Off Your Throne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this taking so long. It's a little bit of a longer chapter, so there's that, but I was away for a number of days with shoddy wifi, so I didn't have a lot of time to get things done. But it's up now! Hope you enjoy. Harry should finally be getting on to Hogwarts next chapter.

Bucky’s alarm jarred him awake in a none-too pleasant manner. He didn’t even think as he got up and did his daily routine, finishing up with a cup of black coffee in hand, going to wake up Harry. He found his son already up, just pulling on a shirt on top of an old pair of jeans. Bucky himself had a pair of sweatpants on. He hadn’t bothered with a shirt, because as far as they knew, they didn’t have any plans to leave the house quite yet at 7:30 on a Saturday morning.    
“Morning dad,” Harry said, his voice just above a whisper. It was clear he was a few steps away from awake.    
“Morning, kiddo,” Bucky replied, “come have breakfast?”    
“Yeah, give a sec,” Harry followed, tugging on a second sock. Bucky grabbed a shirt on the way back to the kitchen, expertly tugging it on while not spilling a drop of coffee. Yep, still got it. 

Bucky was pulling out the box of waffles when the doorbell rang.    
“Harry, go answer that will you?”    
Harry set the plates he had gotten out down on the counter and went to the door, pulling it open, “ Здравствуйте?  _ (Hello?)”  _ The man didn’t say anything, but he smiled at the boy.   
“Папа, есть старый парень в дверь.  _ (Dad, there’s an old man at the door.) _ ”. Bucky looked up from prying the frozen waffles apart and dropping them in the toaster, and moved to stand with Harry at the door. The old man was wearing a long, purple robe that sort of resembled a long bathrobe, but he also had long white hair and a wispy beard that could probably be tied if he tried.    
Bucky figured it was possible he hadn’t heard him, he may be deaf, but then he saw the man looking at the scar on Harry’s forehead, and Bucky immediately recognized him from 10 years ago, on a cold night in England.    
There was an awkward couple seconds, before the man cleared his throat, “Are you Mr. Potter’s guardian?”   
Bucky raised an eyebrow at the old man, he knew this would happen eventually, “I’m Mr. Barnes’ father. No one named Potter lives here.” Bucky could practically visualize the cogs working in the man’s brain for a second, before he responded, “Yes, I’m terribly sorry. Mr. Barnes, I’m here about a letter that arrived at your house a couple of days ago?”   
The fact that they were still standing in the doorway made the situation all the more awkward, but the Barnes boys were the first to acknowledge the fact that if someone was in your home, it meant you wanted them to be there. The gentleman on the other side of the doorframe was, in fact, not as welcome as he seemed to assume he was.    
“Yes, you did not get our reply?”   
“I’m afraid I haven’t had the chance to read it yet, no. I was hoping we could discuss something further about Harry coming to the school to learn? I’m Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster.”   
Bucky and Harry both moved aside to let the old man into the apartment. They still had no desire to have the man in the only safe place they had, but it was clear that this subject could not remain out in the hallway.    
Albus stepped inside the threshold, and could have been more impressed by what he saw. The walls were painted a nice colour, but they hit the cracks in the wall, there was a fair sized hole in the wall, which Albus could see on the other side was a bedroom. It was small and falling apart, and Albus couldn’t help but think Potter would have been better off with his relatives back in England. Potter’s guardian had a metal arm and a stern look about him, and Harry had a bruise on his lower arm. Dumbledore didn’t see good things. The Potter boy ate a waffle, leaning against the barrier dividing the kitchen and the living room. The tension was so thick it could be sliced down the middle with a knife. There was cars outside and the sounds of an everyday town going on outside, but inside, the sound of the waffle being eaten was the only thing from keeping the silence from becoming suffocating.    
It was Harry who spoke first. His waffle was finished, so he spoke.   
“We know I’m a wizard already.” The tension between the two parties broke like a board. “The hole in the wall was from an accidental magic burst last week, we haven’t had time to fix it.” Bucky could see the old man visibly relax, and that sent warning signs all through Bucky, and he started to put the pieces from the old man’s head together. The hole in the wall, the bruise on his son’s arm from when they were sparring, Bucky’s metal arm and the fact that he constantly looked like he was two seconds away from killing a man.    
The old man thought he was abusing his son.    
That sent Bucky into a rage.    
“You know how dare you,” The old man looked up at him, “You come in here, wanting to take  _ my son _ away from me and back to  _ England  _ where he hasn’t been since he was one year old.  _ You _ were the one who left him on his own in the cold, it’s  _ your  _ fault you let him go in the first place. You do  _ not  _ get to come barging in here and assume that I  _ hit  _ my  _ son _ . You mama dracului bucata de rahat om bătrân  _ (Mother fucking piece of shit old man.) _ ” Harry winced at the language his father was using, but at the same time it was kind of hilarious. Dumbledore wasn’t phased, Harry assumed he didn’t know Romanian. Bucky was close to following up on that murderous glare of his. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t pick you up and toss you out right now.”    
“I’d like to go, dad.”    
That made Bucky freeze right where he was and turn to look at the brunet. Dumbledore shot a grateful look Harry’s way, but Harry wasn’t done.    
“That, by no extension means I have to comply with what you say,” he turned to Bucky, “but we know that we’ve had problems with accidental magic before. I know we’ve trained to the point where it’s kinda controllable. You used to say it’s like the hulk, control it and if you get angry you’re screwed,” Bucky smiled a little, remembering the first time he’d used that analogy, it had helped both of them understand it a little bit better, “but what if I could get angry and still control it? Maybe the school would be a good thing.”    
Bucky sighed, realizing Harry’s points.  _ All  _ of Harry’s points. He looked back at Dumbledore, “this doesn’t mean I’m done with you. At all. Alright, Harry go grab your jacket.” Bucky set his empty mug down on the counter, then disappeared into his room.    
Dumbledore took this as an opportunity to speak with Harry privately. “You know they’re going to worship you, because you killed the dark lord when you were a baby.”   
This was new information to Harry, but if there had been anything Bucky had taught him, it was to be adaptable, change with the situation. Well, that was only a part of it.    
“My name’s still Harry, you know.” Dumbledore didn’t react, but he continued anyway. “My full name’s Harry James Barnes. As much as Potter sounds like a  _ load  _ of fun, I never knew them. I grew up with dad, coincidentally whose name is also James, but he goes by Bucky.” He got an eyebrow raise out of the old wizard. 

“Maybe it’s not much, but this is home and he’s all I have.”    
Bucky emerged from the bedroom before Dumbledore could say anything, his field jacket on, along with a better pair of pants.    
Dumbledore started, “we’d best be on our way to Diagon Alley, then.” 

 

\----   
  


The trip to a run down bar named the Leaky Cauldron was one far more cookie-chucking-inducing than Bucky would have prefered. While they did arrive in England exactly 6 seconds after they left Russia, Bucky would have much prefered the 6 day trek between the two of them, preferably without the old man around to slow them down. Harry wasn’t much better, leaning heavily against his dad for support, which wasn’t really working since Bucky was close to falling on his ass himself. Dumbledore was the only one unaffected, which irritated Bucky to no end. 

Aw, dammit. He should have stayed back in Russia. He was never teleporting  _ ever  _ again. 

The bar didn’t present itself to the Barnes’ men until it was right in front of them. The Leaky Cauldron, in a gold cursive script, had wood that seemed to be rotting away at first glance, but Bucky blinked, and it phased in and out of looking run down, and being absolutely pristine. The door opened with a squeak, which made the whole room pause to see who exactly had walked in from the front entrance. Dumbledore, of course, was completely recognizable, but once they saw the scar on Harry’s forehead, all bets were off. Harry had his hair short and brushed into a quiff, as opposed to a normal kid’s definition of a “haircut”, which essentially was letting it grow out in any direction until they couldn’t see anymore. Harry thought it was tactical, if anything.    
And just like that, it seemed like there were suddenly hundreds of people surrounding the three of them, like Harry had just walked up on the red carpet to the most widely recognized convention of that year. As much as they pushed in on the small group, Harry refused to be removed from his dad’s side, no matter how many hands he had to shake. There were so many voices he couldn’t even tell what most of them were saying. They were all in English as well, and after only speaking English with Bucky every once in awhile, it was hard to focus on and decipher what exactly was going on.    
He tried to mentally remove himself from the situation, he had to get out, and then he found himself being folded into the seams of his father’s jacket, flush against his stomach like a bear cub. He could hear Bucky uttering some vague threat to the lot of them that made some people scowl and walk away, and some people tremble where they stood. They started to disperse and Harry started to become more aware of his surroundings, without everything having a silvery white tint to it. He sighed once to clear his head, but Bucky’s hand remained firmly on his shoulder. Whatever the threat he’d made, even the barkeep on the other side of the room looked visibly shaken.    
“It is possible you’d want to rethink that threat, Mr. Barnes? I’m sure you don’t have that many knives to fit all those buttholes.

Bucky just scowled, “you really want to find out?”   
“I think I’d rather not.” Dumbledore’s small smile was obviously forced.    
“Come, let’s continue,” Dumbledore said, guided the Barnes’ through the back door into Diagon alley, and Bucky's pretty sure he’s never seen something so spectacular.    
“Kiddo, you go your list?” Bucky asked Harry, and the smaller brunet pulled out the parchment list from his back pocket.    
“Alright dad, let’s go shopping.”

 

\----

 

Diagon Alley had Bucky worried he might lose Harry. There were so many people who were all dressed in a more toned down version of the robes Dumbledore was wearing. Despite this, Bucky didn’t feel at all out of place in his normal clothes, and by the looks of it, neither did Harry. Dumbledore weaved in and out of the crowds, the Barnes boys following close behind. They went into a huge building, the name of which was too high up for Bucky to read engraved in the stone, but banks were recognizable almost anywhere in the world. Large stone pillars lined the walls both inside and outside, but while the inside looked more sophisticated, the outside was a pure white stone. The podium-like desks were lined with creatures straight out of some fantasy fusion with Gremlins. While both brunettes were silent, Bucky was more partial to going with the flow and trying not to be weirded out, whereas his son had a wondrous look on his face as he took in the large structures, casual magic, everything about the place seemed to pull at his attention. 

They made their way to the front of the corridor, where there was another fantasy creature scribbling away, not even bothering to look up when he said, “who would like to access their vault?”   
However he did stop and look up when Dumbledore replied with “Mr. Potter.”   
The creature looked at dumbledore with the most  _ done  _ expression, “and does Mr. Potter have his key?”   
Dumbledore fished around in his pocket and pulled out a small silver key with  _ H. Potter  _ written down the handle. He handed the key to the creature, and whispered something quiet enough that neither of them could hear it. The creature (goblin, Dumbledore supplied,) hopped off it’s stool at moved towards the back room, where the three men followed. They came across a really sketchy looking roller coaster, and Bucky had a feeling he was going to have to get on that at some point. Sure enough, that’s right where the goblin led them, the headmaster taking the front seat next to the goblin, leaving Harry on his dad’s right side.    
The coaster cart took off at unimaginable speeds that would have definitely been illegal had they not been magical.  It didn’t take long for Bucky to feel his heart jump to his throat as they flipped around. He had one arm arm around Harry, and his metal arm, and the end of the journey, had made a very obvious dent in the metal support bar. The goblin looked back and forth between Bucky and Harry and didn’t say anything, just glared at him, but Bucky didn’t regret anything. The goblin pulled the key out of a pocket, and used both the key and his hand to unlock a series of extremely complex locking systems, which opened the door to Harry’s vault. Bucky’s eyebrows shot up at the mountains of gold and other miscellaneous objects stacked on each other.    
Dumbledore handed Harry a sack, “Keep your gold in this.”    
Harry put a couple of handfuls in, but didn’t feel the sack get any heavier. He figured it had to be some kind of magic, obviously. He put some of every type of coin in, and then nodded to Bucky when he was done. Bucky turned around and paled when he realized he would have to go back into the cart to get off this ruddy island. He took a deep breath, loaded himself in, and the cart was off again.    
Dumbledore made one stop in a vault that was empty, except for one small drawstring bag that anyone else wouldn’t have been able to see, but Bucky’s training came in handy not just for balancing coffee and whatever else in the morning. He was pretty sure Harry saw it too when he looked back at Bucky. And again, the cart was off.    
When they stopped again, it was back where they started, and if Bucky ever went on that cart again during his lifetime, it would be too soon. Harry seemed happy enough, but Bucky would be damned if he didn’t catch that knowing smirk of Dumbledore’s. 

 

Shopping by no means was entertaining. Bucky had never enjoyed it, preferring to pick up objects in bulk so he wouldn’t have to go out as often. The magic was cool and all, seeing inanimate objects fly in the air and move on their own, but being from the 40’s he was more weirded out by most of it. People continuously stared at the scar on Harry’s forehead, but none dared approach him, obviously what happened at the bar had spread around quickly. They had gotten almost all of the items on the list, the only things they were missing were robes and a wand. The other thing on the list was pets, but Harry hadn’t mentioned it so Bucky wouldn't bring up magic animals if he didn’t have to. Dumbledore had instructed them to go to the last two places, and he would meet the two of them outside of Ollivander’s Wand Shop when they were finished inside.    
Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions was hectic, to say the least. There were parents waiting for their kids who had tens of measuring tapes flying around them, measuring various parts of them, which ranged from relevant to robe creation, to the size of their eyebrow. That didn’t make sense at all, but Bucky sighed and let it go. There wasn’t much that made sense this side of the magic pub. There was a frizzy, blonde haired woman who rushed around, ushering kids on and off stools, as well as three different projects going on around her, one in her hands and two in their air following her around. She didn’t pause when she saw Harry, which made Harry immensely glad when he was ushered onto one of the stools. He looked back at his dad, who was standing stoically by the windows beside the front door. The tape measures buzzed around his face, whizzing about so fast they were a blur and Harry could barely see them. And suddenly they were gone, and Madam Malkin had taken their place, helping him off the stool saying “Just give us 5 minutes hun. school robes?” She looked at Harry, he could only nod, “good, I’ll see you up at the counter when I call for you, eh?” She walked off before Harry could reply. 

7 minutes later, the Barnes men opened the door, paid and robed up, Bucky looking vaguely traumatized. Ollivander’s Wand shop had a much more calm and serene tone to it, Harry was incredibly grateful for the break. There seemed to be no one in the shop, but Harry knew better than that. The door was open. He wasn’t surprised when a John Hurt lookalike zoomed to the edge of the counter on a ladder. There was no doubt, that was Ollivander. He had a homey look about him, but not in a creepy way. In a homey way. Harry felt more relaxed in that shop than he had all day.    
“Hello Mr. Potter. What can I do for you?”   
Of course he knew, Harry wasn’t surprised, but it didn’t stop the internal flinch. He was having a hard time reacting properly to that name, considering he had been a Barnes his whole life up until this day.    
“Uh… I’m here for a wand? I guess?”   
Ollivander grinned, then disappeared behind the shelf again, coming out a few seconds later with an old maroon box. He opened it, gave the wand to Harry, and told him to give it a swish. He did, the window across the room cracked, and Ollivander snatched the wand back. The same thing happened a couple more times, with various vases getting knocked over, and at one point nearly every wand box had been thrown off the shelf when Harry had tried a holly and unicorn hair wand. Finally, the old man pulled out a dark green box which held a special wand, he said.    
“This wand is holly, with a phoenix feather core. 11 inches, nice and supple. But there’s something about this wand, it has a brother.”   
Harry’s one eyebrow raised and he looked at Ollivander as he continued, “yes, the phoenix gave two feathers. The sister wand belongs to one Lord Voldemort, if I am correct. And I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. Give it a swish now, go on.”   
Harry looked at the man skeptically, but gave it a swish nonetheless. A soft breeze ruffled their hair and small, harmless sparks shot from the wand. Ollivander had a satisfied grin on his face, “There you go, sir.”   
Harry looked up at his dad, “That was awesome.” Bucky ruffled his hair and grinned at him. They saw Dumbledore outside, and Bucky had to keep in a sigh. He had temporarily forgotten about the man, even if he’d rather it was permanent. Dumbledore led them to Eeylops Owl Emporium, but kindly asked Bucky to stay outside, which automatically set off alarm bells in his head. They came back 2 minutes later, Harry smiling from ear to ear carrying a birdcage with a young snowy owl inside. 

And that’s when the day went from relatively-ok-but-could-have-been-better, to aw-things-just-went-so-downhill. While Harry had his hands full with the bird cage, the old man whipped out his wand and pointed it at Bucky, yelling “obliviate!” A red light shot out of the wand and was aimed towards Bucky. He dodged to the side. Dumbledore shot off another Obliviate, and Bucky strode towards him, pulling out a knife that was stuffed in his belt. Turns out he didn’t need to touch the man, as Harry had already judo flipped him and pinned him to the ground, the owl cage lay carefully on the ground next to him.    
“What the hell were you thinking?!” Harry yelled at the headmaster, who was trying to convince Harry to get off him.    
“Mr. Potter, if you would calm down, I wanted you to leave him and come with me to Hogwarts. It’s clear you’re not safe with him. He just pulled a knife out of his belt. If he forgot about you, he would have no obligation to stay with you.”    
Harry got off Dumbledore, but not because he asked, he got off out of disgust.    
“You  _ vile  _ human being. I’ve said before and I’ll say again, he’s my  _ dad  _ and I wouldn’t leave him for the world.”   
Bucky was  _ this  _ close to ripping into the man himself, but Harry dragged him by the arm silently while Bucky was muttering curses in at least 3 different languages that would make Mama Barnes wash his mouth out with soap at the old man.    
“Come on dad, let’s find somewhere else to stay for now.”


	5. Scandal in the Streets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey so I sincerely apologize for this taking so long, I had like one paragraph and then I kind of ignored it for a while before spending 3 of my 4 periods writing this instead of working. Whoops. The author regrets nothing. Anyway; The scene where he hands the bags to the guy was a result my not knowing what Harry did with his bags in the first novel, or even if they covered it at all. I added the guy in just to make it sort of believable. If there IS an explanation or this just doesn't make sense to you please let me know! As well the Jacek and Dmitri backstory just kinda happened, but again the author regrets nothing.  
> Chapter 6 should be the ride to Hogwarts, where we'll meet most of the other characters, as well as beginning-half of first year, as well as the first Bucky Barnes update.  
> Also I promise next chapter will be more exciting.

**Family** **Issues!**  
_Dumbledore attacks a family he was seen walking with for most of the day on July 31st, 1998 in Diagon Alley. Everything had presumably been going fine all morning, when in the afternoon the Headmaster of Hogwarts launched himself at one young boy's father, who we have yet to confirm the identity of._  
    _People were already starting to doubt the competency of the Headmaster, considering his age, however there is still a large group of people who support his position of power._  
_Dumbledore himself has not come publicly forward to make a comment, and has sent no representatives forward._  
_The ministry seems ignorant to what has happened, the Minister of Magic evidently being swayed towards Dumbledore's side. As more news should occur, we will have more to update._

     The Barnes boys left on less than amicable terms with the headmaster of Hogwarts. Where it was busy on the way in, on the way out they had at least a foot of space on either side. Harry didn't know whether that was a good thing or not. They had stayed at the cheapest motel they could find. They could use what cash they had on them, and while it was mid July, the two of them made a deal to leave the next day, and catch trains or walk back to their home in Severomorsk. As much as England seemed like a cool place to stay for a month and a half, Harry had friends who would be looking for him over the summer, as well Harry wasn't too keen on staying in or near a place that would put him in a spotlight that was far to bright for his taste.  
     The Barnes boys took the bus to the next station that wasn't Kings Cross, Dumbledore had told them that was where the Hogwarts train was before they had left, they'd be damned it they stepped into the Wizarding World a second sooner than they had to.  
The ride for the most part was silent. Bucky and Harry took a train car that had one other person who continually stared out the window, and didn't speak a word to either of them. Harry fell asleep under Bucky's arm about hallway through the ride.

     Harry was still drowsy by the time they hit Severomorsk, blinking heavily with wobbly steps. The train station wasn't too far from their apartment, so Bucky let his son clime up onto his back so he could be carried back in a reasonable manner. He was heavy and growing, it wouldn't be too long before Bucky wouldn't be able to pick him up without falling over at least once.  
The elevator was still broken, so Bucky trudged up 8 flights of stairs to hit the 4th floor. He dug around for his key when he noticed a small figure curled up beside the door frame. Bucky opened the door slowly to prevent it from squeaking, and turned on the dim hallway light.  
Jacek, Harry's best friend was fast asleep outside their apartment.  
     It was the wee hours of the morning, Bucky had a million thoughts all at the same time as to why the smallest Alexeev was doing out of his house, never mind out of his bed. He moved inside to lay Harry on the couch, then went back outside to collect Jacek. Bucky ran his hand through Jacek's hair and rested it on his shoulder, the movement seemed to bring the child back to life.  
     Jacek startled back, shifting away from Bucky with panic in his eyes before they came back into focus and he saw the older Barnes. His chest rose and fell in quick succession, his t-shirt was damp with sweat.  
     "Jacek? входи ( _Come inside_ )." Bucky helped the kid up by his arms and followed Jacek into the apartment, closing and locking the door behind him. "Присаживайся ( _Have a seat_ )." Bucky gestured at the kitchen table, "вы хотите немного молока ( _do you want some milk_ )?"  
     Jacek took the wooden chair and sat down lightly, "Да, пожалуйста ( _yes, please_ )."  
     Bucky pulled a glass and the milk out of the fridge and gave it to Jacek who took small sips, "так что привело вас сюда ( _so what brought you here_ )?"  
     Jacek set down his glass gingerly and looked at Bucky, "Вы знаете репутацию моих родителей ( _you know my parents' reputation_ )."  
     Bucky did, in fact, hear about the Alexeev's not far from often. Allegedly, they hit Jacek and his older brother, their father drank and their mother got high, and the 11 year old's brother Dmitri had dropped out of high school early on. Jacek was from a broken home. Bucky nodded at Jacek. Harry and Jacek had been friends long enough that Jacek was pretty much another child to Bucky. He may not live with them but Bucky'd be damned if there was almost a single thing they didn't do together. It was going to break the poor kid's heart when Harry left, but Bucky decided then that Jacek could stay or come around as much as he damned well pleased while Harry was gone.  
     "вы хотите пойти разбудить его, и я буду вытащить диван-кровать ( _you_ _wanna_ _go_ _wake_ _him,_ _and_ _I'll_ _pull_ _out_ _the_ _couch-bed_ )?" Bucky reasoned. Jacek nodded then got up to wake Harry. Bucky took his empty glass and put it in the sink. Jacek had Harry hanging off his shoulder as they moved to Harry's bedroom, and Bucky unfurled the couch, pulling out sheets and blankets from the closet. He lay them on with Jacek's help and gave the boy a spare pair of Harry's pyjamas's. The three men went to sleep in sullen silence.

\-----

     The rest of the summer went by at super-speeds. Soon enough the last days of August were rolling around. Jacek had spent most of the summer with him, the blond claiming it was the best summer he ever had. Bucky had laughed and ruffled the boy's hair. Dmitri had dropped by for a couple days, which resulted in water gun fights around the block. Bucky had teamed up with Jacek, and Harry with Dmitri, Harry claiming the fight had to be at least a _little_ bit fair.  
The two sets of Walkie-Talkies trapped in his drawer finally got a bit of use, the dusk was starting to collect.   
     Jacek's crackly voice emitted from the old device, "Я могу увидеть Eagle 1 подкрадывается позади вас ( _I can see Eagle 1 sneaking up behind you_ )." Bucky could hear the smirk in his voice.  
     True to fashion, there was Harry with a massive water gun, water balloon-grenades on his belt and a shit-eating grin to complete it all. He knew the jig was up, so he shot everything he had from his gun at his dad, who laughed loudly and dove for cover behind a car.   
That's when Bucky got nailed in the head with a water balloon. Dmitri stood behind him proudly watching the water drip from Bucky's mop of brown hair and down onto his shirt. Until Bucky playfully growled, then Dmitri took off and Bucky gave chase. 

     They were all sopping wet and getting water on Bucky's carpet, but they were all giggling, because Jacek was the only one who was relatively dry until Harry had dumped an entire bucket of water on him from one story up. They shucked their shirts into Bucky's dryer, and they draped themselves over the couch and chair in the living room, while Bucky made one collective massive plate of snack foods, from crackers and peanut butter to apples and bananas. 

\------

     Kings Cross was a lot bigger than Harry imagined. It held large stone arches and glittering windows, people were bustling about trying to catch their train on time. Platform 9 and 3/4, that's what Dumbledore had said before they had left Diagon Alley. Harry didn't really expect to find a platform that read 3/4, but hey, magic was a fickle thing. They came to platform 9, but there wasn't any sort of train that looked magical, just Hull trains.   
     However, their fears were put to rest, as there was a woman with a plump frame and vibrant red hair, herding what looked like 5 children, all with the same red hair like a border collie.   
Then she sent the oldest of the pack, with his card, _straight into the pillar._  
     That was new.  
     Harry's eyebrows shot up, and he looked at his father, who was watching the pillar with just as much intrigue.   
     "Well, guess that's where we're going." Harry didn't sound confident, he didn't feel confident. He was 90% he would run straight into the wall. Then he would crash his cart. Hedwig was silent in her cage, and Harry was really not sure she wouldn't get hurt by this.   
     "We go in together?"  
     Bucky nodded, "together."  
     Bucky grabbed the other side of the cart's handlebars and they ran into the wall, but instead of crashing headfirst, the phased right through the brick wall. They came out on the other side and slowed to a stop. A rush of adrenaline passed through Harry, he felt like someone had touched him with a live electric wire. He could feel the magic in the air, fizzing and popping invisibly.  
     Harry wished Jacek could have been there to see it. The other boy had always admired fantasy universes and how much thought went into creating each and every aspect of it. From dragons, to towns and dwarves, elves, on and on, Jacek couldn't get enough.  
Bucky was a steady presence by Harry's shoulder. It was crowded, parents were too concerned with getting their own child onto the train to watch out for other people, just barely dodging the Barnes men. They made their way to the back of the train to load Harry's bag and Hedwig to the waiting attendant, who levitated them into the car.   
     "You'll have your bags waiting for you in your dormitory." The man said, absolutely monotone. Thinning brown hair and a bored expression, Harry guess he had been doing this far longer than he wanted to. Harry and Bucky moved back to the front of the train.   
     Bucky knelt down to scoop his son into his arms. Harry could feel Bucky's soft breath on his shoulder as Harry's arms wrapped around his neck. They didn't move. They didn't want to move, because when Harry pulled away he was going to have to get on that train, and not see his dad until Christmas. Bucky's fingers curled into the short hair on the nape of Harry's neck. Bucky smelled so much like home, Harry was having second thoughts about leaving.  The two eventually pulled back Bucky studied his son's face again just to memorize it.   
     "You can write, you know. Every week," Bucky said seriously, "I mean it. I'm going to worry about you. It's what a dad does."  
     Harry's smile was small, "I know dad, every week. I will. I'll write to Jacek too, when I can."   
     "Alright, I love you."  
     "Love you too dad."  
     Bucky ran a hand through Harry's hair, "go get on that train, kiddo."  
     Harry gave his dad one last hug, then bounded up the stairs. Bucky smiled, watching him go. Harry's head popped out of the window next to the staircase, and he waved at his dad as the train whistle blew, signaling the leaving time. Bucky waved back until the train started to leave and Harry had to duck back inside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE PLEASE READ:  
> So a lot of people have been asking me why Harry is still going to hogwarts after all this stuff happened, and while I'm grateful for all the comments cause i know people are reading my story, It's getting a little stuffy. So here's why:  
> A lot of it is the fact that my plot kinda relies on it so I have to make it work somehow. But reasons storywise, Bucky and Harry are pretty much new to the Wizarding World, so they basically have no clue about Durmstrang, or even Beauxbatons. Dumbledore wanted Harry to go to Hogwarts, so it's not like he would have told them about it. Even canonically, Harry has no idea these school exist until his 4th year, simply because he didn't know about them. As well, since Dumbledore is headmaster, Bucky pretty much expects Harry won't see much of Dumbledore, kind of like how you are aware of your school principal, but you don't see them often if ever.  
> I hope this clears up some stuff. Chapter 6 should be out soon.


	6. A Glass Full of Confidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry arrives at Hogwarts and meets some people along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey my dudes, sorry this one took so long. I've been stressed and struggling with school, especially there was a lot of writers block with the whole post train scene. It's been done so many times in different fics that I wanted to make it different from the others in some way, but that's such a crucial point in what happens that it's hard to change.  
> Anyway, I hope this is to your satisfaction. Now that he's actually in Hogwarts, it should be easier to pump out chapters now.

     Harry was alone in the maroon-set compartment for the first couple minutes of the ride. He rode so he was going backwards, closest to the window. He heard the glass door slide before turning his head to see who it was. There were two boys, Harry noticed, who looked about his age.  
     "Hey, uh, every other compartment is full, d'you mind if we sit?"  
     Harry shook his head, gesturing forward, "no, come on in. Is this like, the last empty compartment then?"  
     The boys chuckled, and the second one answered, "pretty much." He shook Harry's hand, "I'm Seamus Finnegan," he pointed at the boy next to him, "an' that there's Dean Thomas." The boys sat down on the seat opposite Harry.  
     "Harry Barnes, nice to meet you."  
     Somehow, however, by a miracle straight from Uncle Steve's spirit wherever he was, there was hardly a reaction.  
     "Cool, mate. Do you like quidditch?"  
      Harry cocked his head, "No, I was more raised on boxing, some football though. What's quidditch?"  
     Dean and Seamus grinned at each other. "We've got no idea. Seamus grew up with football too, and I'm not much into sports period," Dean explained.  
     "Looks a little like Australian rugby in the air, 'f I'm honest," Seamus piped up. The three cringed at that, Australian rugby was particularly wild, like someone had sicced a pack of loose wolves on each other and the ball was a fresh piece of meat, there was probably more tackling and less ripping each other to shreds, but it came pretty close. 

     The conversation dawdled into more common territories, football included (Russia was /way/ better than England, even though England almost always made it farther), and discussion of Dean's art skills, which for someone his age, were pretty impressive when he pulled out his sketchbook, passing it to Harry. It was a lot of scenery, some people, and some strange creatures Harry was pretty sure Dean dreamed up.  
      Suddenly, there was a knock on the glass. There was a boy there, older than them with a shock of blonde hair. Dean slid over to open the door, and the boy greeted them with a bright smile.  
     "Hey, I'm Brett Lane. 'S alright if I sit in here with you guys?" He shifted in his spot, leaning on the door frame as the train hit a curve.   
     "Yeah," Harry supplied, "we got room for another."  
     "Sweet. The Prefects meeting is over, and all my friends are in another car way at the other end." Brett supplied.  
     "What's a Prefect?" Seamus asked, despite being a halfblood, he was only 11 and there was still a fair amount he didn't know.   
Brett's dark green eyes flitted around the three of them, behind thick-framed glasses. "It's us fifth and six years, we're basically pseudo-teachers, we don't have the house-point-award-system power, but in fairness that's probably a good thing. We help out younger students when they need it and we keep the rowdy ones in line. I'm the Slytherin prefect," Brett said with a smirk. The younger boys looked at each other, then back at Brett.  
"We'll try our best, I think." Dean said, and Harry raised an eyebrow at him, "what?"  
"I only raise hell if anything becomes problematic."  
Brett turned to Harry, "that's not reassuring in the slightest. This is Hogwarts. Almost everything is problematic."  
"Well, this'll be fun."

\-----

  The four boys had gotten their uniforms on before the train pulled into Hogsmeade station. When the train pulled into a full stop, Harry was the first one out the door, admittedly on wobbly legs. He'd tucked his legs up under him for the majority of the ride, not needing a reason to get up, but he was regretting it when the pins and needles started to shoot through his calves.   
They hustled along, shuffling one after the other, and hopping off the train steps. Brett said goodbye and went the other direction, while the three other boys wandered towards a voice, loud and distracting, calling the other first years the opposite way from the other students. Harry's eyes landed on a hulk of a man with a full head of hair and a long coat. He led the other young students to boats, where he turned around, revealing a full beard as well.    
       The shore was cold, windier than back at the platform.   
       "Four to a boat! Only four'o'a boat, please!" Harry, along with Dean and Seamus picked a boat with one other kid in it. They ended up closer to the back of the back when the boats started to move, the large man at the front, leading with the torch. Harry sat next to the unfamiliar kid, who's hair was minty green in the dull glow of the moon. He looked ready to pitch himself over the side if it meant getting out of the boat.   
       Harry put his hand on his shoulder, in what tried to be a comforting gesture, but the kid jumped and flinched back, Harry pulling his hand back fast. His eyes locked with Harry's, wild with fear.  
       "Hey... You alright?"   
       The kid opened and closed his mouth. Then opened it. Then sighed, "Y-yeah. I'm fine. I just... Don't like boats I guess." He closed in on himself, clenching his arms over his stomach.   
       Harry, this time slower and with more visual warning, put his hand on the kid's shoulder. Harry knew the guy up at the front was tour-guiding, but they couldn't hear him from where they were. The kid turned towards Harry with the hand on his shoulder.   
        "Here. Breathe with me." Harry took a breath, the kid following along shakily. Dean and Seamus talked amongst themselves, but weren't unaware of the situation. They figured Harry had it handled and didn't want to impeach on the space.   
       "A little better?" Harry drew back as the kid seemed to settle.   
       "Yeah. Thanks" The green hair was up in a half quiff, which fell onto one side of his forehead. His robes seemed to swallow him whole even though they looked to be made for him.   
       "So, whats your name?" It's the first time the kid had initiated conversation. Harry watched him lift his head hesitantly, waiting for a response.   
       "Harry, my name's Harry," he said, putting out his hand, "what about you?"  
       Respectfully and a little jokingly, the kid shook back, "Jason, but you can call me Jay."   
       Harry smiled back at him, "that there's Dean and Seamus as well."   
       They waved, "so where did you come from?" Dean asked, just trying to make conversation until the boat ride ended.   
       "I"- he started, but the large man yelled loud enough that they could hear it.  
       "Stay down!" Harry looked up in time to duck, intertwining vines curling above their head like a roof. Lord knows why they had these right where they were supposed to travel. To keep them on their toes, he supposed.   
       The vined section wasn't too long, so conversation halted until they passed.   
       "I'm from Croydon, technically."   
       "Oh, that's neat. I think I've been there once. Outside London, right?" Harry inquired.  
       "Yeah, that's the one." Jay finished. 

       The boats rounded the corner, revealing Hogwarts, illuminated through the windows against the starry backdrop. Harry could hear a bunch of the students' stunned gasps, and while he didn't make a noise himself, he could definitely appreciate the view.  Jay made an appreciative noise in passing, and Harry was pretty sure Seamus would catch flies with a mouth that wide.   
       The boats docked at the shore, the kids jumping off towards the front of the boats, trying to avoid getting their robes wet. No one wanted to have that icky feeling when _just_ the bottom of your clothing article was wet.   
       They all made it safely, and dry, by the looks of it. The castle gleamed in the soft light, an entity on it's own, the lights from the great hall telling of the life inside.   
       The kids were met on the long front steps by an older woman, who introduced herself as headmistress McGonagall. She turned around, and the student body followed her into tall standing doors and into the threshold of the castle.   
       They were led into a side area around the bright hall, outside the doors to the hall.   
There was a kid, somewhere in the crowd where Harry couldn't see, who was telling what seemed to be the general population that the sorting involved fighting a troll. Jay raised an eyebrow and seemed about as malcontented with him as everyone else.   
       There was another kid, one with white blonde hair that was slicked back with far to much gel. He strutted up to Harry and put out his hand, "I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. I can be your friend and help you survive around here. Like, for example," he looked disdainfully at the tall green haired boy to Harry's left, "choosing the right friends..."  
Man did Harry miss Jacek. He didn't take Malfoy's hand, feeling a spark of something beginning when he refused. Not being Malfoy's friend would _definitely_ result in Malfoy being an enemy, but Harry was willing to take the risk. He's rather have Jay any day.   
"I think I can make those choices on my own, thank you."   

Out of the walls, ghostly figures zoomed down on the kids. The students shrieked, the ghost shrieked, Seamus shrieked, and then the ghosts started laughing. Harry was startled, but he did get a good laugh out of them scaring everyone else.   
       "Ooh, look at them. They're so cute this year!" the fat ghost chuckled and spun around, ghostly ail splashing around down on the kids and dissipating into mist.   
       The ghost girl rolled her eyes, "Friar, you say that every time."  
       The two of them wandered off between walls. "Yes, but that doesn't make it any less true."   
The other two who came out with the initial scare had left after Harry lost track of them paying attention to the other two.   
       The doors to the hall were flung open by the same woman from earlier, who gestured for them to follow her. She led them between the tables and up to the pulpit area where the pulpit had in fact been replaced with a stool and a hat. Dean and Seamus moved towards the front of the crowd to get a better look, leaving Jay and Harry towards the back of the crowd with other students.  
       The hat tore a seam at the brim and up in the middle, forming a face. Harry's eyes widened. He knew the hat was probably magic, but a real live talking hat was something only seen in cartoons. Harry was pretty sure he wasn't dreaming. It would be a pretty strange dream.   
It only got weirder when the hat started to sing. It wasn't even a bad singer. Harry thought the point of the song was to probably make fun of the houses while erasing house bias, but he was pretty sure they just made it worse.   
       McGonagall grabbed a scroll from inside her robe, put on small reading glasses, and unfurled the scroll.  
        "Abbott, Hannah!" A young girl with blonde pigtails hopped up the few steps, sat on the stool and put the raggedy hat on her head.    
       The names were continuously called, when Jay nudged Harry's shoulder. "What do you think you'll get?"   
       Harry shrugged, "I don't know. Any of them would be cool with me, I guess."   
       Jay tilted his his head in consideration, "yeah, I guess that makes sense."  
       "What about you?"  
       "Me?" Jay looked surprised that Harry asked, "I don't know. Everything I know about these houses came from the song that hat sang."   
       Harry looked at him questioningly, "you weren't raised in the wizarding world?"  
       Jay shrugged, "nah, as far as I know both my parents are not wizards. Muggles, I think?"   
       Harry nodded in acknowledgement. 

       "Potter, Harry."   
       The entire hall hushed as fast as someone getting killed right before their eyes. It was ominous, and Harry hated the attention as they searched the crowd for him.  
       Jay put a hand on his shoulder this time, "that you, Harry?" "Well, kind of. It's complicated? But yeah, it's me." "Then like you said, just breathe."   
       Harry took a breath and headed forward, affirmed.   
       He pushed through the crowd, his eyes locking with McGonagall's up at the front. She nodded at him, as he sat down on the stool, pulling down the hat which sunk over his head. 

       Everything was black. He didn't know what he expected to see, but the peace of the darkness was soothing. The voice, however, startled him. A scratchy deep Brit talked around in his head.  
       "Ah, Mr. Harry Potter. I was wondering when you would come around." It went silent for a few seconds.   
       "You've certainly been through a lot, haven't you."   
       Yes, he supposes he had.   
       "I think Slytherin would help you on the way to greatness. With the skills you've been taught and learned to value from your father, you aren't going to find many kindred spirits anywhere else."   
       That doesn't sound too bad.  
       "Slytherin!" 


	7. They Beat The Pulse Into Your Shoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first official week at hogwarts.  
> Harry makes some friends... and some enemies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen. I know. I know I said I'd update in November and it just... never happened. I'm sorry.  
> I'm not even sure I'm entirely happy with how this chapter went, but it's the best I got and I really really don't want to delay it anymore.  
> I'm not sure when the next update will be. Chapter 7 seemed to be a huge case of writers block for me, so I'm hoping that now that I have this out, I can start fresh with Chapter 8 and it will be out sooner.  
> This one's also longer than the others because I had planned to write more, but I hit a certain point and I was just /done/. So Yeah.  
> It's not edited. There are probably going to be errors. I tried my best to catch them all but I may have missed some.  
> Hope you guys find this enjoyable anyway!
> 
> Edit: Thank you so much to @good_morning_and_good_night for the correct Russian translations! (I hope I got it right now)

The dark wood table laced in subtle green cloth erupted into applause that startled the rest of the dining hall out of their silent stupor.   
The other tables, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, looked like fish out of water, some with wide eyes and others with gaping mouths. Harry stood from the stool and gave the hat back to McGonagall, who looked impassive-if a little disappointed-but she waved him on, encouraging him to go sit with his housemates. He bounded down the steps, almost grinning, shooting a backwards look towards Jay who smirked back at him.

He took a seat next to Brett, the kid from the train who was sitting by a couple of other first years and had waved him over.   
"Hey, good to have you."   
Harry felt a happy bloom of warmth in his chest. He'd been nervous after the teacher at the front had called him by the name he was known by, but if Brett hadn't brought it up afterwards, maybe people wouldn't.   
He settled in beside Brett and another blonde haired boy who looked more interested in the sorting than whatever else was going on around him.

"Jason Raleigh."   
Harry hadn't recognised anyone else prior and had started to drift off, when that name was called in the relative silence of the large hall.  
His green haired companion took a visible deep breath, shoulders coming up and dropping in resignation, trudging up to the stool, the hat, and the teacher. He sat on the stool, and Harry watched the hat slide down to his shoulders.   
There was silence for a solid minute, before the hat's ripped mouth opened up again to shout "Slytherin!"  
Harry let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.   
The smattering of polite applause from the other tables was overruled by the rambunctious Slytherin applause.

Harry hadn't payed attention to most of the rest of the ceremony, or Dumbledore's opening speech. There were some things that rattled him a little though, "don't go in the forbidden forest" being one, and especially "the third floor is off limits." Harry was curious as to why they would be off limits in the first place.   
But then Dumbledore said some strange words that everyone else also seemed pretty confused by (Jay and him shared a look), but then food was on the table and Harry let it go in favour of mashed potatoes. 

The dinner went smoothly afterwards, chatter ringing all around the dining hall, a few table games breaking out that Harry didn't recognise, but were fun to watch.

At the Slytherin table, they got talking about background and where people came from, as per Slytherin curiosity.

"Where are you from, Jason?" There was a blonde haired boy who had previously been boasting about his status as a Malfoy, whatever that meant. Harry didn't have a clue who the Malfoys were, but he got a grand assumption from this poor first year that they were probably prats.

Jay looked up from conversation with Brett (of which Harry was also participating, talking about what the Slytherin dorms looked like) and Harry saw Brett roll his eyes out of the corner behind Harry's glasses.

"I don't seem to recall Raleigh being a pureblood name," Malfoy continued, and Harry could sense they were treading onto dangerous territory when he saw Jay tense up. He let him continue though, because if Jay could adequately defend himself, then there would be no reason for Harry to step in.

"Neither of my parents are wizards." Jason said into his plate.  
Draco raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at the comment, but didn't reply. Only for a moment.

"It's a wonder they even let you into Hogwarts, never mind just Slytherin." Draco smirked back at his other cronies (he had some already?), who snickered amongst themselves, but Jason banged his fist on the table, making everyone in the vicinity jump, including Harry and Brett. Sparks jumped from Jason's hand, shooting every which direction, but didn't seem to harm anyone. Brett swatted a few away from his glasses.

"My parents have done a better job at their life then yours ever could in 20, obviously. You don't get to say  _anything_  about my parents." And with that, Jay went back to picking at his sausage.

Draco looked shocked, offence plastered all over his face. He looked like he was about to retort, but Brett leaned around Harry to give the young blond a look and he settled.

"Hey," Harry whispered to Jay over the table. He didn't want to draw too much attention in case Jay didn't want to be called out. "Are you alright?"

Jay nodded to his sausage, but didn't say anything.

By the time dessert rolled around, Jay had gone back to looking a bit more chipper. Harry had looked around to see what delicacies he saw on the table. None of the big cakes or cookies or puddings looked even remotely appealing. However, when he looked back to his plate, there were a few spice cookies in a pile.   
Harry loved magic.   
Spice cookies were something Bucky could make with a few simple ingredients and weren't too hard to throw together. He held only happy memories of him and his dad trying to figure out how to make them, and getting completely sidetracked when Bucky decided then would be a perfect opportunity to rub a pile of flour in his son's hair.

Harry hadn't even realised he was missing home, but he felt a pang of longing as he picked up a cookie and took a bite.   
  
  


Long after dinner had finished, they were led down to the dungeons, guided by Brett and another girl, who's name Harry hadn't caught in the clutter of children all getting up from their seats. It wasn't cold, per se, but the draft that flew down the tunnels was enough to make some of the other kids shiver.   
They stopped at a relatively plain looking wall, which matched the other walls surrounding it, made of cold grey brick.   
Brett said "Serpentes" to the wall, loud enough for everyone to hear. With a rumble, the bricks peeled themselves away one by one until they formed a space large enough to fit a couple people through.  
Harry had to remember which section of wall it was, maybe there had been a symbol that he'd not been close enough to see considering he was at the back of the pack of children.

The Slytherin common room was majestic. The smooth brick walls blended easily into a room accented well by other green and silver items, giving the room a graceful, relaxing presence. The back wall had a fireplace currently lit with a welcoming lime green fire, and the walls behind that were made of glass, letting the students have a direct view into the lake behind the school.   
The girl stopped everyone in the open space as the door closed by itself behind the last person.  
"Alright," she opened, "welcome to Slytherin. This is the common room, where a lot of house meetings are held, but also it's just a place to chill. The door has a snake carved into one of the bricks, so that's what you look for when you need to get in. The password is currently 'serpentes', but changes every fortnight. Check the board beside the door," she pointed to a pegboard beside the door, "to see if it's changed.  
"Boy's dorms are on the left, girls are on the right." There was a hallway branching down a path from both of said walls, and Harry could see rows of doors down them. "Rooms have five beds each. Each has a bathroom and storage space. There are 7 doors down both halls, you're all on the first door, which will take you down a separate hallway to all the first year dorms."   
She leans over to Brett and whispers, "that's about it, right?" And he nods, but says back "yeah, but I'm going to go over a few things too."   
Brett turns to address the group. "I won't keep you here for much longer, but I have a couple other things.  
"If you end up unhappy with a dorm mate, there are forms on the pegboard that you can fill out to apply for a change. Ladies, all necessary sanitary products are available in your bathrooms. Ladies and gentlemen cannot enter the others' hallway, and are blocked by a barrier unless explicitly given special permission.   
Lights out and quiet down is at 11 o'clock. Breakfast starts at 6:30 and ends when classes start at 8:30. You will all get your class schedules tomorrow, but classes will start in 2 days on Monday.   
General Slytherin rules include don't steal from others, don't betray each other, respect each other even if you don't like someone, and just generally don't be mean. We don't have a ton of rules as we recognize a lot of us run on our own moral compass, but we're ambitious and cunning, not dicks." Brett shot a vague look towards Malfoy, but no one caught it.  
Brett looks at the other girl and shrugs, then looks back at the kids. "That's it for now, your luggage will be in your room. Find it. Have a good night, see you tomorrow."

While everyone else heads towards the dorm, Harry turns to face Brett, who's watching everyone go in, Jay behind him.   
"Hey, Brett?" Brett turns around at the sound of his name, but doesn't look surprised to see Harry and Jay.   
"Hey guys, what's up?" A small grin breaks out on his face, Harry knew he was happy to be here but he could tell the older boy was exhausted.   
"I just wanted to say thanks, it was a good introduction. Very informative." Harry smiled brightly at him, hoping lift his spirits before letting him go.   
Brett let out a small laugh, "thanks Harry. See you tomorrow."   
Harry and Jay head towards their own dorm.

\------------

Harry and Jay's room looks pretty sweet. They've got three kids in their dorm already. They were sat in the middle of the room hunched over a deck of cards.   
They heard the door open, and all three turned to look them.   
"Hey, we got Potter and Raleigh!" One of them comments, and Harry has to take a deep breath, his shoulders tensing and he was ready to argue with them if he had to.   
"Barnes, actually."   
"What?"   
"My last name is Barnes, not Potter. It's ok, you didn't know."   
The kid with shaggy brown hair tilts his head at him, "didn't it say Potter on the attendance though?"   
Harry gives him a look, "the attendance was wrong."   
Shaggy brown haired kid shrugs and says "OK. Hey, you guys wanna join our card game? Jem's teachin' us how to play go fish."   
The tension seeped out of him, and he sat down cross-legs to play go fish.   
Shaggy brown-haired kid pointed to himself, "I'm Ross," he pointed to a dark skinned kid with closely cropped hair who was dealing the cards, "that's Jeremy but he goes by Jem," and he pointed to a petite blonde haired kid who's hair was in short, loose curls, watching the cards intently, "and that's Yatin. He's actually Russian, I think."   
Harry perked up at that, "а ты говоришь по русски?  _(Do you speak Russian?)_ "   
Yatin's head shot up from watching Jem to look at Harry, "Да, да. А ты откуда?  _(Yeah. Where are you from?)_ "   
Harry's face broke out into a grin, happy to have someone from home, even if it was just by coincidence. "Я из Североморска. A ты?  _(I'm from Severomorsk. And you?)_ "   
"Москва.  _(Moscow.)_ "   
It was then they realized that the other three were staring at them, bewildered.   
Jem looked between the two of them, "I have no idea what just happened."   
"He ask I speak Russian, I say yes, I ask where he from, he say Severomorsk, he ask, I say Moscow." Yatin answers in chopped, heavily accented English.   
Jem raises an eyebrow at Ross.   
"Aright, go fish. Here's how you play..."

\--------------

They got their schedules at breakfast the following Monday. The Slytherin table was heavily divided by year and social group already, minus a few exceptions.   
Jay and Harry huddled at the end of the table pouring over their schedules with Jem, Ross, and Yatin sat across from them.   
Compared to his school schedule back home, this felt like a breeze.

"Hey dude, what are you looking forward to most?" Jay leaned over from his breakfast to peer over Harry's schedule to see his classes. Kind of pointless, in hindsight, when Harry caught a glimpse of Jay's schedule out on the table, and it was the exact same as his.

Brett, across the table, put down his forkful of eggs drearily. "You have the same schedule as the rest of the Slytherin first years, and you'll often share a class with another house too. That's for both first and second year and some of third year, because by third year you get to start picking some of your own classes. By fifth year, it's kind of a mix of everyone." And he continued to eat his eggs robotically. Not a morning person, Harry guessed.   
Harry shot a glance over at Malfoy at the other end of the table, in a rambunctious conversation with his food. He locks eyes with Ross for a second who's sitting across from him beside Brett. Ross glances over at Malfoy and shoots Harry a concerned look, but Harry doesn't respond with another expression.   
Jay grins at Harry, shrugs, and goes back to his breakfast.

"Hey Brett, how much sleep did you get last night?"   
Brett pauses again, but clearly doesn't have the strength to meet Harry's eyes anymore. "Like, three hours or something."   
Harry makes a face at him, but lets it go.

  --------------

Class starts.   
Bucky would be proud, Harry thinks, of how much he actually pays attention. Almost every class at this point is introducing new content with magic in the class, but even rules and regulations are interesting when you've never purposefully performed a spell in your life.   
Professor  Flitwick has to stand on a pile of books on top of his desk, and Harry's pretty sure only he and Jay find it funny, sniggering to themselves at the back of the class, at least until he actually starts the lesson. 

The rest of his classes are fairly interesting unto themselves, but the end of the week is coming up and he's only got Defence Against the Dark Arts, Flying, Transfiguration and Potions to add to the new class roster. He's only really excited about defence, with flying coming in at a close second (do they really use brooms? He's gotta write his dad once he finds out). 

Defence is interesting, to say the least, a class they shared with some first year Hufflepuffs.  Professor Quirrell is not someone Harry expected to teach a class, but he was here none the less. The man wore a turban but didn't seem to have any affiliation with Sikh people, and Harry could barely understand the man with how much he stuttered or spoke quietly. Which immediately put Harry on edge. He knew this kid back in his elementary school who was getting speech therapy for a stutter, and as soon as Harry remembered Luski attempting to speak in front of the class for a presentation, Harry knew Quirrell was faking it. But why?   
Looks like Harry wasn't going to be able to focus as much on his studies as he would have liked this year. Class ends. Harry and his friends leave, and none of them say a word about Professor Quirrell.

Transfiguration was an adventure, shared with Ravenclaw. The lady who had done the sorting hat stuff at the beginning of the year was this class' teacher, and Harry knew right from the first moment she opened up with what transfiguration was and how to use it, he was going to  _love_ this class. Especially since she hadn't called him out on his name, or called on him at all actually. He thought maybe he had some fear, buried deep down, that since learning about his last name at birth, would refuse to call him by the name he had grown up with. So far, it had gone pretty well.

Potions was decidedly the worst class Harry had yet. A hundred times worse than whatever happened with Quirrell. They were back down in the dungeons, but they took a different hallway than the one they'd taken previously to their dorm. The tall wood doors opened up to a classroom that looked similar to the layouts of the others, but was dark and smelled like death.   
They took their places, Gryffindor on one side and Slytherin on the other. The room was so quiet a pin could drop and would be heard. Kids were nervous to be in a place like this.   
10 minutes into when class was supposed to start and light chatter had risen up around the room, the doors flew open with a  _BANG_ that made the students jump in their seats.   
Harry kept his eyes towards his desk. He did not turn around.   
The teacher was the living version of what his father had told him scary stories about.   
Large, billowing cloak, long greasy black hair and hook nose gave him a hawk-like appearance.   
"I am Professor Snape, welcome to first year potions. I don't expect any of you to succeed spectacularly, but follow my instructions as taught and you have a chance at passing my course."   
What a prick.   
"With potions, there are many things you can do, brew fame, bottle glory, and even... stopper death."   
Harry kept his eyes trained on the blackboard which wrote down the teacher's words as he was saying them.   
"Why aren't you writing this down!" The professor boomed, and the students, Harry included, scrambled for quill and parchment. Jay shot Harry a look beside him, and Harry just shrugged in return.

"Have something to say, Potter?"   
Well, he didn't before, but he did then.   
"Could you stop calling me that, sir? My name is Barnes, not Potter."   
With someone like this, the key was politeness. If they took the complaint to a higher up and Harry was rude, the issue would then become focused on the rudeness instead of the actual issue.   
Snape arched an eyebrow. Harry supposed Snape was trying to look intimidating, maybe trying to scare Harry into backing down, but Snape didn't know that wouldn't work on Harry in a million years.   
"... Have something you would like to say, Barnes?"   
"No, sir." Harry replied, but he counted it as a win anyway.

———

Friday afternoon, the last class of the week, was flying, also shared with Gryffindor. The actual lesson part of flying went well. Most of the kids managed to get onto their brooms with little trouble, except for a few in both houses, including, Harry noticed, the kid who had talked about the trolls at the sorting ceremony. Yatin was also one of those kids, but unlike the other kids, he wasn't trying. Madam Hooch was working with another kid, so Harry approached his friend.   
"Hey, not feelin' it?"   
Yatin shook his head and looked at the broom, "I don't like the sky. No, uh... Я боюсь высоты  _(I'm afraid of heights.)_ ".   
Harry nodded, understanding. " Разве ты не хочешь попробовать? Может быть, вы должны сделать это за отметки   _(You sure you don't want to try? You might have to do it for marks.)_ ".  
Yatin shrugged, not a no, but he still stared at his broom skeptically.   
"Try," Harry coaxed, "and if you don't like it then you don't have to continue."   
Yatin shrugged again, but he looked willing to give it a shot.   
"Up," he said, and the broom shot to his outstretched hand.   
The small grin at actually getting the broom to respond faded fast, replaced with fear over the thought of his feet leaving the ground.   
Yatin took a deep breath, and concentrated. He willed himself off the ground, and soon he was hovering a couple inches above where he had been before.   
Harry grinned, proud of his new friend.

Yatin touched back down again and Harry gave him a high five, congratulating him.   
Harry turned back around just in time to see a Gryffindor kid lose control of his broom and fly off into the air.

Madam Hooch and everyone else could only look on in abject horror as this kid completed full loop-d-loops higher and higher off the ground.   
Then almost as quickly as it started, the kid fell off the broom and tumbled to the ground, the broom meeting an unfortunate fate as a pile of ashes in the grass.   
The Gryffindor kid's shirt caught on the point of a knight's sword on the way down, and they could only watch as it tore through the fabric, not doing much but slowing his descent.

There was a sickening  _crack_ as the kid hit the ground, and Madam Hooch was spurred into action as he cried out.   
"Don't go anywhere, stay off your brooms!" She called back as she rushed him off to the hospital wing.

Harry, Jay, Ross, Jem, and Yatin sat down on the grass under the bright sun, waiting. Waiting for what, none of them really knew. For something to happen? For someone else to come, for Madam Hooch to come back? They would wait and see.

That was before Draco Malfoy found the Gryffindor's remembrall.   
Harry guessed it had fallen out of his pocket as the kid was being flung around on the broom, but he knew Draco having it meant nothing good would come of it.   
"Leave it be, Malfoy." Harry called out to the blond, who was tossing it like a baseball between his friends.   
"What're you going to do about it, Potter?"   
"Christ on a bike," Harry mumbles, the called out louder "my name is Barnes!"   
Jay, in place, gets up and marches righteously over to Malfoy and holds out his hand. There was an unlikely posse of Gryffindors backing him up, which was a sight to see, but Harry had guessed they didn't know the kid well enough to stand up for him.   
But Harry's friends had known Malfoy for a week and were already sick of his shit.   
Jay held his hand out, waiting for the ball. "Hand it over and stop being such an ass, Malfoy."   
His friends " _oooh_ "'d at him, but Malfoy was prepared to stand his ground. "Are you gonna take it from me, Raleigh?"   
Jay swiped for the ball, but Draco pulled it out of reach at the last second.   
Draco glanced at the broom beside him, and threw the ball up into the air.   
Jay hadn't missed the glance. In a last ditch effort, he pushed Draco down so he couldn't reach the broom, and caught the ball that had fallen back down.   
There wasn't applause or congratulations, just a stunned silence.   
Then,   
"YEAH JAY!" Ross exploded, cheering like a madman amongst a sea of crickets.   
Jay passed the remembrall back to a Gryffindor and said something Harry didn't catch, then came back to join his friends.

———

The week was over, finally, so the weekend brought spare time to Harry.   
It wasn't that he'd completely forgotten to write his dad, but it may have slipped his mind during the adventures he'd had this week.   
It was late Friday night, after dinner, but instead of following his friends back to their room, he stayed in the common room and told them he'd catch up.

He pulled paper and a pen out of his bag. He may have to use parchment and ink for his classwork, but there was no way he was using that if he didn't have to. It was a wonder the wizarding world got anything done if they were still stuck in the dark ages.   
Harry sat crosslegged at the coffee table in front of the fireplace, and gets to work.

_Hey dad!_   
_It's been an adventure, that's for sure. Sorry I didn't write to you earlier, it's been a bit hecktic! The classes are so cool here, we're learning charms, how to turn things into other things, potions (that teacher's kinda scary, but definitely no worse than Mr. Gerenok), even how to fly on a broom! Man, I wish you and Jacek were here though. Oh, pass on my love to Jacek and Dmitri, I miss them a lot!_   
_I've made some new friends, Jay, Ross, Jeremy, and Yatin. Yatin's actually from Moscow, what are the odds?_   
_Of course, there's still people I don't get along with, but I survived elementary school, I'll be fine._

_I'll keep you updated. Write back soon, send the letter with the owl!_   
_Love, Harry_

_— // — // —_

Bucky is only a little bit startled by the owl at the window. It was more of a shocker the first time, but now he's expecting it for the most part.   
He and Jacek are on the couch, watching a movie that both of them have probably long stopped paying attention to, but the popcorn was keeping them both busy, having competitions to try and see who can get it highest and still in their mouth. 

The owl hit the window, startling Jacek, who's piece of popcorn hit his nose on the way down instead of his mouth.   
Bucky opened the window and helped the owl in, letting it perch on top of his metal arm.   
"Развяжи письмо. ( _Untie the letter.)_ " Bucky asked of Jacek, who promptly untied the letter from the owl's legs.   
Bucky swore he felt his heart leap into his throat as his son's friend unrolled the parchment, cleared the string and dropped it onto the coffee table. 

They read the letter, both grinned wider as they read the good news Harry had sent them. 

" Думаю, что у его все в порядке, a?  _(Guess he's doing ok, huh?)_ " Bucky comments over Jacek's shoulder, and the boy nods in agreement. 

"Можем ли мы написать ему?  _(Can we write back to him?)"_  Jacek asked, putting the letter down beside the string, turning to face Bucky. 

Bucky nods, " Да. Схвати бумажку, а я поищу ручку, которая работает. _(Yeah. Get some paper and I'll find a pen that works.)"_


End file.
